


Crybaby

by FantasySwap



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Angst, Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 05:10:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20868725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FantasySwap/pseuds/FantasySwap
Summary: The desire to spill his dirty little secret has words bubbling to the surface, and he’s blurting them out before he can stop himself.“I heard a rumour that Tina was sleeping with one of her teachers.” The lie doesn’t feel good at all, but it feels better than if he had told the truth. The others still stare at him, but at least it isn’t with pity or disgust or amusement.They’re all silent for a moment, no one knowing what to say to that, and Eddie is about to snatch the words back up when Richie speaks.“That doesn’t surprise me.” He says. Eddie’s breath catches and his heart plummets to his stomach.





	Crybaby

**Author's Note:**

> this is so... weird and unrealistic? suspend your reality and enjoy i guess lol

Eddie doesn’t really know how it started.

Well, that’s not strictly true. He knows how it started: a bad day, a mistake. He’d been upset over something or other his mother had done, had been trying to find a place away from the Losers where he could go to bawl his eyes out. Only he’d failed, and instead found his Biology teacher round the back of the sports sheds, legs tucked up to his chest with a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

He’d cursed when he’d seen Eddie, scrambling up and dusting himself off. Then he’d _ seen _ Eddie, and his eyebrows had pulled down in the middle to make a frown.

“Edward?” He’d asked, all sincere and gentle and wheedling. That had been all it had taken for Eddie to break down. He hadn’t objected when Mr Clarke had wrapped a comforting arm around his shoulder, even though he knew it wasn’t strictly protocol.

He hadn’t objected when that hand started to move, either. He’d been so angry that day, so pissed at his mom, wanting to rebel in any way he could. It just so happened that that way presented itself to him in an unconventional manner.

So that’s how it started. The thing Eddie can’t figure out is why it’s still happening, months later, when it was never supposed to happen in the first place.

***

Eddie doesn’t even notice when he starts hanging out with the Losers less and less, but they do. He sees them shooting him weird looks at lunch and in class, ranging from worried to annoyed. He understands– he’d be pretty fucking confused too, if one of them started ditching without an explanation.

But he looks at his friends and tries to summon an explanation and just… can’t.

He’s sixteen and gay and sleeping with his teacher. He doesn’t even know why. He tried to end things months ago, but Mr Clarke has a way with words he supposes. He’s a manipulator and a creep; every week Eddie will go to him to end things, and every week Clarke will talk him down, and it’ll take another whole week for him to build up the courage to do it all again.

The cycle repeats, and Eddie feels like he’s dying.

One afternoon, in Clarke’s fourth period Bio class, Eddie, Beverly and Ben are sitting together. Clarke is lecturing on at the front of the class and every so often his eyes will flicker over to them, catch on Eddie’s face, see Eddie watching him right back.

Clarke likes this, Eddie reckons. He thinks it’s because Eddie is admiring him, when in reality he’s wondering what the fuck he’s going to do.

Except this time it’s different. Eddie hasn’t been out with the Losers in a while– what with Clarke and his mother and school, Eddie hasn’t had much free time and whenever he did have a spare minute to go outside the churning, guilty thoughts return with a vengeance. How can he spend time with them and lie to their faces?

He can’t, so he doesn’t.

Ben and Beverly are discussing what they’re going to do at lunch, something to do with Richie and a prank and their angry old English teacher. It’s too well thought out to have been made up on the spot, so Eddie figures they must have planned it some time he wasn’t around. That’s been happening a lot lately.

When they catch him eavesdropping not so subtly, Beverly grins and nudges her elbow into his.

“You want in?” She whispers conspiratorially. “We’re getting pizza afterwards, if Richie’s piece of shit car actually works for once.”

Eddie feels a tug in his chest, a heartache so deep and so profound that he’s left breathless for a second. He wants more than anything to act like nothing's wrong, to go have fun and eat lunch with the Losers like he used to.

“Yeah,” he murmurs back, a flicker of happiness lighting up somewhere inside him. “I’m in for sure.”

Except when the bell rings for the end of class and Eddie is packing his stuff up hurriedly, not wanting the others to forget about him entirely, Clarke calls out to him.

“Edward?” His voice carries through the class and stops Eddie in his tracks. “Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Ben and Beverly glance over their shoulders at him with a raised eyebrow. Eddie’s shoulders droop. This will not be a conversation, he knows, it’s a distraction technique. Clarke doesn’t want him spending time with his friends, so he won’t be.

“You guys go on ahead,” Eddie hears himself speak robotically, lifelessly. “Some other time, for sure.”

“For sure.” Ben echoes back at him. Eddie watches their retreating forms and can’t help but feel that he’s walking away from himself as well.

***

The first time he ever really tries to talk about it, it goes as well as one might expect.

It’s one of the rare occasions Eddie is actually with the Losers, and they’re hanging out at the edge of the lake. Most of them are swimming, wearing only their underwear and a confidence that Eddie only wishes he had.

Eddie and Ben sit by the side of the lake, soaking up the sunshine and listening to the others splash about playfully. Eddie is covered head to toe to hide the marks he knows are under his clothes, under his skin, teeth marks and scratches.

He’s feeling desperate. Summer break is approaching and Eddie wants to be done with everything by then; he wants to have finished with Clarke before then so that he can properly enjoy the vacation with his friends without having the threat of returning looming over him quite so scarily.

The desire to spill his dirty little secret has words bubbling to the surface, and he’s blurting them out before he can stop himself.

“I heard a rumour that Tina was sleeping with one of her teachers.” The lie doesn’t feel good at all, but it feels better than if he had told the truth. The others still stare at him, but at least it isn’t with pity or disgust or amusement.

They’re all silent for a moment, no one knowing what to say to that, and Eddie is about to snatch the words back up when Richie speaks.

“That doesn’t surprise me.” He says. Eddie’s breath catches and his heart plummets to his stomach.

“What does that mean?” He asks, voice small and insecure.

“I’m just saying,” Richie’s ridiculous glasses keep bobbing up and down as he treads water, and Eddie isn’t sure if he prefers it when all he can see of Richie is his mop of brown hair above the surface.

“She’s got, like, a reputation.” he continues. Eddie continues to feel shitty. “Apparently she’s a slut. I mean, who else would be desperate enough to bang a teacher, am I right?”

Beverly flicks water into Richie’s face and makes some snappy remark about him being a dick, but now it feels like Eddie is the one submerged underwater. Everything feels fuzzy around the edges and he can’t hear his friends anymore.

The irony of this is fucking insane. It’s not like Eddie hadn’t thought about sex before. He’s almost seventeen, and gay, and has had a dumb fucking crush on his dumb best friend for years. Sometimes, when he’s alone and melancholy, he blames everything on Richie.

If Richie hadn’t made him gay… if Richie hadn’t been so irresistible… if Richie didn’t have a habit of making his heart sink and soar like a fucking yo-yo…

If Eddie’s desperate, it’s because of _ Richie. _

But Eddie knows that’s not fair. Richie didn’t make him gay any more than Clarke did, Richie was just being himself, just being Eddie’s friend. Richie doesn’t send him mixed messages to mess with him.

The rest of the time, Eddie just blames Clarke or the world or himself, furious at everything until it feels like all he has left is rage.

“That’s, like, fucked up, though.” Eddie contributes. He’s staring into his lap as he says it, picking at the skin around his fingers in a way that he knows his mother would hate. “I mean, if it’s true. Teachers are supposed to be the adults. He was taking advantage of her.”

Richie has never been good at picking up on the mood. When something seems like a joke to him, he treats it like a joke.

He treats this like a joke– Eddie hopes he does, at least.

“Nah, man,” he replies breezily, shit eating grin plastered onto his face. “It’s gotta start somewhere, right? I mean, why would the teacher be attracted to her in the first place? Giving off signals, dude, I’m telling you.”

Bill must have dived under the water and yanked at Richie’s ankles then, because he disappears from view with a squeal. Eddie suddenly realises he’s picked at his hangnails until they’re bloody and sore, and he stares at them for a moment before standing abruptly.

“I told my mom I’d be home by four.” He explains briefly to Ben, not bothering to say goodbye to the others. He’s worried he’ll throw up if he stays around for much longer. “I’ll see you round.”

He’s gone before Richie can even surface.

When he arrives home, his mother fusses and cries over him until he stands still and agrees to let her wrap his fingers with bandages. He feels like his head is going to explode.

***

He doesn’t see the Losers outside of school for another week. He sees Clarke twice, and stays at home for the other days, hiding under his blanket and wondering why he can’t see in colour anymore.

He’s in Biology class, and Richie is actually there for once instead of skipping whenever actual writing is required. Eddie is distantly aware of how Richie keeps trying to catch his eye, but he’s distracted by Greta Bowie curling her hair around her finger.

Clarke is standing next to her desk with her test paper suspended in midair, a smile on his face as he engages her in conversation. Eddie feels sick. Does she know what she’s getting into? Should Eddie warn her? If he doesn’t, and she gets hurt like Eddie’s been hurt, is that on him?

He feels like that’s on him.

He makes the mistake of glancing at Richie right at this moment, and Richie takes advantage of it. He gestures dramatically to where Clarke and Greta are talking before poking his tongue at the inside of his mouth crudely. Eddie’s stomach lurches.

There’s a horrible screeching sound then and it takes a moment for Eddie to realise it was his own chair scraping against the floor as he pushed it back to stand up. Everybody is looking at him, but he directs his words at Clarke.

“I have to go,” He mutters, swallowing back the ever present sting of tears. “I’m sorry.”

He can feel Richie and Bev and Ben watching him, eyes like lasers pointing at his skin, but he can’t bring himself to meet their eyes. Clarke just looks confused and concerned, but there’s a muscle ticking in his jaw that betrays his irritation.

“But the lesson isn’t over yet, Eddie.” He says simply, as though that’s the end of the conversation. Anger flares up, scalding hot and boiling over. He’s so goddamn sick of being told what to do.

“Something came up.” He says through gritted teeth, and reaches down to snag his bag up off the floor.

“If you leave this room,” Clarke says cuttingly. “I’ll have no choice but to call the headmaster. Please, sit down Eddie.”

Eddie swallows. “Fuck you,” He hisses, eyes lifting murderously to Clarke. “Fuck the headmaster, fuck your detentions and fuck you.”

He doesn’t look back to see the reactions of his friends. This piece of gossip will spread like wildfire and pretty soon everyone in Derry will have heard about it; they’ll probably call his mother, he’ll probably get grounded, maybe even suspended from school.

He can’t bring himself to feel bad about it. Snapping at Clarke like that… it felt good. It felt cathartic. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

***

He skips the rest of his classes. He has no idea whether or not Clarke will have reported his behaviour; on the one hand he’ll want to keep Eddie on a tight leash, keep him from telling anyone. On the other hand he’ll want Eddie to know he’s the one with the power.

By lunch, Eddie has worked himself up into a panic that he can’t escape from. If the school calls his mother he’s fucked– before he was angry and needed a way to get his emotions out, but shouting at a teacher in front of his entire class? That was a mistake.

Eddie sits alone for the first few minutes of lunch, and just as he begins to think maybe he’ll have gotten away with it, there’s suddenly a cacophony of noise coming from behind him.

“What the fuck was that, Eds?” Richie’s hand slides across his shoulder as he sits down next to him. The others follow shortly after, and Eddie’s peace and quiet is destroyed.

“Nothing,” Eddie mutters, shifting away from Richie’s touch. He frowns, looking hurt, but covers it up quickly under a mask of indifference.

“Are y-you okay?” Bill asks, ducking his head to catch Eddie’s eye. “Do you w-wanna t-talk about it?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Eddie says. Guilt crawls up his throat and he bounces the ball of his foot against the floor. He should go and talk to Mr Clarke, explain things. If he apologises, maybe the man will let them end this whole thing on a good note. Maybe no one will ever have to find out.

“I have to go.” He says, standing abruptly. He hears his friends shout his name as he walks away, but he doesn’t have time to turn and reply. His body is thrumming with an electric current, half excitement and half dread. If he sorts this out now he can apologise to his friends, get back to the way things used to be. He wants that more than anything.

Clarke is inside his classroom when Eddie knocks on the door. He looks up and regards Eddie with a raised eyebrow. Eddie swallows nervously, feeling two inches tall.

“Hey,” he shuts the door behind him with an audible, pointed _ click. _“I– um, can we talk?”

Clarke crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you here to apologise?” He asks sternly. Eddie can’t find the words within himself to agree, so he just nods his head and stares at his shoes, defeated. His arms have wrapped around himself instinctually, and he feels tears gathering in his eyes.

“Eddie, sweetheart.” Clarke says, voice saccharine sweet. Eddie wants to throw up. “What’s wrong? Is it your mother? She shouldn’t treat you like she does, you know that.”

Eddie sucks in a wet, miserable breath. “No,” He stammers. “No, it’s not– that’s not–”

“It’s okay, Eddie. I’ll treat you how you deserve to be treated.” Clarke’s splayed fingers cover Eddie’s whole face, and he tries not to flinch back when Clarke’s other hand grips the short hairs at the nape of his neck. “I promise.”

Eddie leaves half an hour later feeling disgusting. He needs a shower. He needs to go home and scrub himself until his skin is raw and painful. He hasn’t sorted anything out, he’s probably going to be grounded, he was rude to his friends.

He just wants everything to stop.

***

He doesn’t get grounded, because the school never calls his mother. In some ways he’s grateful because at least he doesn’t have to face the woman’s terrifying wrath, or even more terrifying worry, but it also makes him angry. He doesn’t like feeling like he and Clarke share secrets.

The next day he’s in the locker room, getting ready for phys-ed, when everything comes crashing down. The other Losers, minus Beverly, are all stood around him chatting about something that happened when they were out the other day and Eddie feels himself sinking to the empty place he spends most of his time in now.

He’s pulling the bottom of his t-shirt up before he thinks to remember the marks scattered across his body. The conversation around him falls silent and he has just enough time to think, _ ‘what’s wrong?’ _ before Richie is yanking the t-shirt out of his hand.

“What the fuck, Kaspbrak?” Richie splutters incredulously. Eddie has heard a lot of Richie’s voices, each one of them a different joke, but this doesn’t sound like a joke anymore. This sounds like Richie, and he sounds angry. Eddie feels himself retreating into himself.

“Give that back, Richie.” He says through gritted teeth, reaching out to snatch it back. Richie, being over six foot, easily towers over him; Eddie isn’t going to lower himself to jumping up and down to get it back, but he doesn’t exactly feel comfortable standing there completely exposed either.

“Is this why you’ve been acting so fucking weird, lately? You’ve been avoiding us to get laid?” Richie is definitely angry, though Eddie can’t figure out why. Bill places a hand on his shoulder and tries to mutter something into his ear but Richie pulls away from him angrily. Stan and Ben hover in between them, looking anxiously from one to the other.

“Just drop it, Richie.” Eddie pulls on his gym shirt instead, deciding to cut his losses and get away now. He feels faintly sick, and he wonders if he can convince their teacher to let him go to the nurse.

Richie evidently doesn’t like him walking away because he follows him, footsteps echoing loudly through the room. By this point most of the other students are watching them with mild interest. Eddie panics.

“What, so that’s it?” He says, voice quieter this time, calmer, deadly. “You’re leaving us to go be a whore?”

The word hits Eddie like an electric shock and he isn’t thinking at all when he turns around, hand flying out before he can stop himself. His knuckles make contact with Richie’s cheek and the boy’s head flings back with a sickening crunching sound. Pain lances through Eddie’s hand.

There’s shouting and noise and indistinct conversation, but Eddie can’t concentrate on any of it. He can’t breathe. The past few months are catching up on him and his eyes well up, the tears built up over the past weeks spilling over his cheeks unstoppably. He stumbles backwards until he hits the lockers, sinking down to the floor. He draws his knees to his chest and wraps arms protectively around his head.

He wants to scream, but his voice is gone. All he can do is cry and cry until he’s got no tears left, until he’s empty and lifeless and robotic.

He’s faintly aware of hands on his shoulders, his arms, touching him everywhere. It doesn’t feel bad though– if anything it feels comforting.

For once, feeling empty doesn’t seem so bad.

***

Telling someone is just as hard as he thought it would be.

Their gym teacher takes Eddie to the principal's office after that, a shivering mess of snot and tears, and he sits in front of the man and explains everything. It takes him nearly twenty minutes to get the whole story out, and suddenly he doesn’t have to worry about it anymore.

That’s what the principal tells him anyway. He doesn’t have to worry about everything. They’re going to take care of it. He’ll never have to see the man again.

Eddie doesn’t know if he believes that. He’ll have to testify, or the man won’t get what’s coming to him, and if he doesn’t then he could go on to hurt other people. Even so, he appreciates the sentiment.

The hardest part is going to be telling his friends, although he suspects they’ll already know. It won’t take too long for word to spread throughout the school and then the town; they already called his mother. She’s on her way, and Eddie is terrified of what will happen when she arrives.

He’s sitting ramrod straight in a chair outside the principal's office when he hears a commotion coming from the hallway. His head jerks up in time to see the Losers arguing with the receptionist, distracting her as Richie slips past the desk and hurries towards where Eddie’s sitting.

When he notices Eddie watching him, he freezes. They stay like that for a moment, wide eyed and breathless, no idea what to say to each other. Eddie stands up slowly, and it’s like a dam breaking. Richie rushes at him and before he knows it Eddie is being wrapped in a painfully tight hug, his nose buried against Richie’s neck.

“I’m sorry,” Richie chants. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Eddie pulls back a little and winces at the darkening bruise circling Richie’s eye. He reaches out and strokes the backs of his fingers over the bruise tenderly, breath catching when Richie doesn’t pull back.

“I didn’t mean it.” He promises. “I had no idea– I’m just… I’m so _ sorry.” _

“I’m sorry I hit you.” Eddie breathes– Richie just shakes his head. Eddie gestures towards the others on the other side of the glass. “Do they all know?”

“Kind of,” Richie tells him, sounding apologetic. “They’re worried about you. Beverly tried to beat the asshole up.”

Eddie snorts, picturing the shocked look on Clarke’s face when faced with a five foot something angry redhead like Beverly Marsh. He wishes he’d seen it.

“Just so you know,” Richie continues. “Things are gonna be really awkward for a bit. They feel really bad. We all do, Eds.” He hasn’t taken his arm away from where it’s wrapped around Eddie’s waist, but unlike with Clarke, this feels safe and comfortable.

“It’s not your fault. It’s not any of your faults.” Eddie swallows past the lump in his throat and stares holes into the ground, ashamed. He’s surprised to feel Richie’s warm, gentle fingers under his chin, tilting his face up.

“It’s not yours either, Eds.”

It feels like all his breath has been knocked out of him. It feels like he’s been waiting for something to say that for a long time, and now he can relax.

He wraps his arms around Richie’s neck and melts into the hug, feeling at home here. Properly at home.

Things are going to get better now, Eddie thinks.

**Author's Note:**

> let me know what you think! <3


End file.
